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“What if I promise not to call you Andy anymore?” I say, deciding to skip threats and go straight for bribery.
His eyes narrow. “A quick lunch. A sandwich at the deli, we bring it back here and eat it.”
“No deal. Del Frisco. We’ll take our time and have a drink.”
“It’s barely noon.”
“So have a mimosa. Also, you should give Shelley the afternoon off.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“She has date night with her fiancé tonight. Tell her to go shopping for a new outfit. Hell, give her a bonus to buy the new outfit.”
“Shelley’s engaged?”
Semi-defeated, I let my chin drop against my chest. “Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you.”
“I know the feeling,” he mutters. Then he stands and straightens his tie before pulling his suit jacket from the back of his chair and putting it on. The masculine gesture does something funny to my girl parts.
“So what’s it going to be?” I ask, trying to distract myself from how good he looks in pinstripes. “The deli and I call you Andy forever, or…”
“I don’t suppose I could exchange a steak lunch for you calling me Mr. Mulroney?”
“I’d rather die. But speaking of that, you should tell Shel to call you Andrew. She’s been with you for four years. Her first day of work was also her birthday, by the way.”
He gives me an incredulous look. “How are you best friends with my assistant already? Exactly how long did I leave you alone with her?”
“Long enough, Andrew. Long enough. Also, I bought her a PSL, so, girlfriends for life.”
“I don’t even want to know,” he mutters, coming around to the front of his desk before nodding toward the door. “Shall we?”
I give him a bright smile before flouncing out in front of him. I drop my now-empty Starbucks cup in the trash by his door as I open it and turn my smile on a startled Shelley.
“Good news!” I sing. “Andrew here insists that you take the afternoon off. Also, pro tip, there’s a Diane von Furstenberg sale at Saks and you’d look fabulous in a wrap dress.”
“I, um…what?” Shelley asks, looking nervously at Andrew.
He simply shakes his head and shrugs. “Best not to fight it, Ms. Jones. Georgiana is accustomed to getting what she wants.”
I narrow my eyes as he leads me toward the elevator. “Did you just call me spoiled?”
Andrew glances down at me with a speculative look. “You have a bad habit of misinterpreting everything I say about you for the worst. Why do you think that is?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I say breezily. “Maybe because you hate me? And because I’ve never seen you smile. Like, ever.”
He inhales for patience and punches the elevator button with an impatient finger. “You’re ridiculous.”
“But perfectly ridiculous. Right?” I push when he doesn’t respond.
I hate that I need the answer so badly.
He looks me over, then surprises me by reaching out a hand, his thumb brushing gently over my earlobe, sending goosebumps every which way. “Your earrings…are they…?”
“Diamond cupcakes,” I say, trying for chipper, but the words come out breathless.
I had no idea how sensitive ears could be until this moment.
“Diamond cupcakes,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly against the stud, before he drops his arm, shoves his hand in his pocket, and clears his throat.
